America, I’m writing you a poem:
All words I learned at your side,In these days of your decline, reaching
Up to regain yourself, to get back
To a state of reason and equanimity.
Though your path is nearly severed,
And the man with the knife is still
Loose in your head.
You need me:
To remind you of your promises,
Both the inherent expectations and
What you’ve been telling people
To get them to love you, live by you,
Dream—America, I am that child!
And the child of that child, so many.
All I can do is break your fall; all
I can do is hold you steady in place;
All I can do is write to remind you
To hold your shattered ones together;
All I can do is write how much I love
Your rocks and hills and waterways.
I am here for you, writing you a poem.
America, America, let my grace
Rain on you! Let me be there
With all who care, who fight for you,
Who love and keep your promises.
Let my call not be for the end
Of your tormentors so much as it is
A call to save your tormented ones.
Especially now—something is wrong.
Your leaders have lost their decency.
Your watchmen have sold your gates.
Your promises are betrayed by those
Who ought to love them most of all.
So America, all I can do is write these
Few stanzas, and try to wake you up.
(written late on the eve of July 4, 2025)
William Reger was poet laureate of Urbana from 2019 to 2020.
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